I used to think those soppy love stories only happened in cheesy rom-coms or dog-eared novels, the kind of thing you’d find in a charity shop next to the local Wetherspoons for 50p. All that talk of destiny and heart-fluttering moments? Pure fiction, I reckoned, dreamt up by overly sentimental writers. But then I witnessed one unfold right before my eyes, a proper real-life tale that could’ve been ripped from a script. It all kicked off on a drizzly Friday evening in late spring.

And That Changed Everything!
I’d just clocked off from my job at a marketing firm in Bristol and was headed to the train station, Temple Meads, to catch a train to my mum’s place in Penzance. I hadn’t seen her in ages, and with a rare week of annual leave finally in my pocket, I was buzzing to get going. I’d splashed out on a First Class ticket with Great Western Railway, so I was looking forward to a comfy ride.

No one saw me off at the platform—bit of a lone wolf, me—so I lugged my duffel bag onto the train and settled into my carriage. I’ve always preferred trains over planes; flying gives me the jitters, if I’m honest. The carriage was quiet, just me and a cracking view of the platform through the window. I stashed my bag on the overhead rack and plonked myself by the glass, watching the world go by. Outside, two blokes, both pushing sixty, were having a proper heartfelt goodbye, all pats on the back and low murmurs. Next to them sat the most gorgeous Labrador I’d ever seen, with soulful eyes that could melt your heart.